


I Would For You

by shanjedi



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dream Sex, F/M, Genital Piercing, METAL ARM, Metal Arm Kink, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Some dubious consent, Voyeurism, almost forgot, dedicated to interpol for indulging my horniness, dedicated to the skanks discord, dick piercing, slight - Freeform, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 00:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanjedi/pseuds/shanjedi
Summary: How much can he see, control, from his place in the chip in your head?





	I Would For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [interpol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/interpol/gifts).

> Sprouted from the question of how much johnny actually experiences within your body when he's riding along. Took maybe a minute before it turned filthy. Continuing the trend of Nine Inch Nails songs as titles in the 'johnny dreamfucking' prompt. This was not written all at the same time or edited for cohesiveness and you can probably tell lmao.
> 
> Alternate title: Starfuckers, Inc.

The first time it happened, you panicked. Well - not the ‘first’ first time, you’d been having wet dreams about Johnny Fucking Silverhand since you were old enough to damn well have them. But he’d been an abstract figure then - an idealised star worlds away from a street kid with big dreams. Now? Now the goddamn man was  _ living in your head _ , and you definitely didn’t want him to know you were having fucking fantasies - both in the having fantasies and having  _ fucking _ fantasies. 

You’d hoped that while the asshole was living in your head you’d be able to ignore this. Pick up a joyboy if the need struck, ignore the fact that you’d had a huge fucking celebrity crush on him. Hell, scratch the ‘had’ - you were fair certain that everyone in Night City would fuck him if they got the chance, and you were no exception. That, however, didn’t stop you from startling awake as soon as the man in your dream had clasped a silver hand around your waist and murmured ‘ _ You like that, huh, samurai?’.  _

Fuck, but you really hoped he hadn’t seen that. You rose from the bed, wandering about your apartment aimlessly as you tried to calm yourself. As Johnny continued to not make an appearance - he knew you were awake, you could feel that - you relaxed. Surely if he’d seen that, he’d be out here teasing you about it already?

\-------------

_ Well, hell,  _ he thought. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t half expected them to have the hots for him - they were wearing his damn band merch - but he sure as fuck didnt expect that to affect him nearly as much as it did. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that V was hot, wasn’t exactly his type - muscles & tits in combination would always be his weak spot, someone who’d look absolutely gorgeous bouncing on his cock - but gods and monsters, he’d most definitely not expected to be as into them as he was. He’d be annoyed to begin with, being ‘awoken’ in the oddest sense of the word to ride along in V’s dream, but watching them grind and writhe on his lap, watching someone identical to himself play with them? That’d just left him frustrated and needy, and he was fairly certain some of that had mixed with V’s need too. He’d leave it, he decided - wouldn’t tease them, wouldn’t use it against them - not when he was guilty of the exact same thing. Besides - it’s not as if he could do anything to them, no matter how damn much he wanted to. 

Fuck, he really wants his body back.

\------------

Time went by, and your body refused to stop tempting you with fantasies and dreams. Every night a different scenario, a different pose, a different pleasure. You’d stopped bothering to wake yourself from the dreams, instead almost revelling in the impossible possibilities. How he’d tease you, how he’d touch you and take you over the edge again, and again, and again. Your dreams were fed by your interactions with the man in the day - you could’ve sworn that he’d nigh-on quoted one of your dreams one morning, but you brushed it off.

And Johnny? He was going out of his goddamn mind. Every time, every damn dream, he couldn’t help but watch him-but-not-him trace every damn inch of you. He couldn’t help but watch as your fantasies got deeper and stronger and far more explicit. And he knew that soon his fraying self-control would snap and he’d pounce on you from the shadows, interrupt your dream and  _ have you _ . 

It started out normal. You woke up in the dream with him-but-not-him nipping at your neck, grinding against your ass with thumb rubbing over your hips. You smiled, drawing him up, out of the bed till he stood in front of you, pressed against your body as you looked over his shoulder at the convenient mirror you’d positioned the two of you in front of. You watched, focused solely on him-but-not-him as you slid your hips together and you pulled at his ass and scratched at his back, fascinated by the marks you left on him. 

You weren't aware of Johnny - real Johnny - stalking up to you till he pulled you up against him, glasses pushed up on his forehead and tac vest hanging open from his shoulders. You gasped and the dream Johnny disappeared, melting away into nothing, as the man behind you ground his hips into you and nipped at your neck.

“Do you know,” he said as he lazily raised a hand to trail down your neck, “how  _ fucking _ frustrated you’ve made me?” You bit back a moan as he scraped his nails over your pelvis. “I- I thought -” you start. “Nevermind what you thought. I’ve  _ watched _ you, watched you begging for me, dreaming about me.” He squeezes lightly at your throat. “Gods and monsters, darlin’, it’s like you’ve been begging for me to come in and teach you how  _ well _ I can fuck you.” He spins you to face him, disrupting your view of the two of you in the mirror to steal your lips in a fiery kiss, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes when he slaps your ass in the middle of it. 

You reach up, tossing his sunglasses aside carelessly as you tangle your hands in his hair and push him backwards to the couch. Your kiss breaks as you shove him down and he lands with a bounce, staring up at your naked body with eyes blown. You descend, straddling his lap with legs either side of him and shoving your hands under his vest to pull it roughly off him before disposing of it the same way you did his glasses. Pulling back from him a moment you can’t stop yourself from scratching over his nipples, and he jerks, his strained pants bucking against your center.

He pulls you forwards, hands running over you in search of sweet spots, learning oh-so-quickly how to play you like a damn fiddle. You nip at his ear, unable to help yourself.

“Prove it.”

His eyes glint and he stands from the couch before turning to deposit you where he was sitting and settling on his knees between your thighs. He wastes no time before biting at your inner thigh, laving his tongue over the spot as he moves closer and closer to  _ just _ where you want him before skipping over your cunt entirely to move to the other thigh and repeat. Finally,  _ finally _ , he returns to your centre, flicking his tongue lightly against your clit before you cry out in frustration, burying your hands in his hair and dragging him against your cunt, smearing juices on his beard messily as you do. He chuckles lightly at your desperation before applying himself to the task enthusiastically - his tongue dips in and out of you, dragging at your walls, flicking about your clit and folds as he  _ consumes _ you, wholly burying himself in eating you out. 

He eats you like a man starved for your pleasure, dedicated solely to getting you off, and you’re swept in sensation. He’s hooked your legs over his shoulders, pulling you further towards him so your hips rest just off the edge of the couch, and you can't help yourself from grinding into his face. With a final twist of his tongue around your clit he backs off and you grunt in frustration as he sets your feet back on the floor and stands. Hearing the clank of his belt hitting the floor, you weakly push yourself back up the couch to see what he’s doing, and you can’t help but whistle as he pushes his pants off and discards them. 

He’s very much to scale - long and thick just the rest of him with the metal glint of a jacob’s ladder piercing shining in the light. You watch as he glances around, dragging a chair to the front of the mirror before sitting down and patting his thighs. 

“C’mon, darl. Come sit on Daddy’s cock.” You can’t help but swallow at the absolutely  _ sinful  _ smile on his face, and you push yourself up towards him. As you go to sit down he grabs your hips, spinning you around so your back is to his chest before pulling you down and hooking your thighs open with his knees. You can feel him pressed up against your ass, hard with little pinpricks of cold metal and seeping precum. “I want you to watch, baby. Watch me take you, watch yourself cum on me, watch what you do to me. I want to relish the sight of us - does that sound good, baby?” 

You take a staggered breath and nod. “You gotta say it, baby,” he murmurs, head resting on your shoulder. 

“Yes, sir.”

He groans into your neck, a muffled “Perfect.” as he lines up his cock and slides home smoothly. You can’t help but watch the sight of his cock disappearing inside you, can’t help but fixate on the drag of him inside you. He fills you, stretches you, pushes you to your limits and you feel used,  _ consumed _ , as his metal arm wraps around your hips and lifts you off him, controlling the rhythm of your bounces. 

That’s what you’re doing - bouncing on his cock. You can fucking hear the sound of your coupling, hear your own slick squelch of flesh as he flexes into you in time with your own movements. You can’t take your eyes off the two of you, darting between watching his cock slide smoothly between the parting of your thighs and him - eyes blown wide, hair damp with sweat, hands darting over your body. He’s absolutely overwhelming, surrounding, all-consuming your senses. You can feel the ripple of his muscles under you, you can smell the sweat between your bodies, you are absolutely enveloped in the sheer sensation of  _ him _ . 

And sooner than you’d liked you’re gone, tipping over the edge with the point of a finger rolled over your clit, writhing as he wraps his arms around you to control your movements and fucks into you with wild abandon, chasing his own release within the heated depths of your body. 

The two of you slump together, held upright solely by the back of the chair and his arm around your waist. You can feel the world creeping up on you as your body begins to wake, but you try to cling to the moment for just a tiny bit longer, revelling in the feeling of him pressed against you for just a moment more. It’s for naught, however - you open your eyes to the dingy surroundings of your apartment, vaguely aware of the wetness between your legs. 

But something is different than normal. Johnny sits - leans, more like - across the room from you, looking just as disheveled and well-fucked as yóu’d left him (though, you note sadly, he has put his obnoxiously tight pants back on), hands resting over his crotch. There’s a smirk across his kiss-swollen lips, and you  _ know _ the next think out of his mouth is going to be filled with snark.

“Same time tomorrow?”

**Author's Note:**

> When I say Johnny's leaning at the end? This is what I'm meaning: https://66.media.tumblr.com/430f1d2135c96408ffbf8e92c8fa5d5f/tumblr_ptcz1l3UDm1qicspho4_r1_400.gif


End file.
